


They will never break our spirit

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: As It All Burns [4]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, GFY, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 21:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soon.</p><p>Soon they will leave the planet they're on. Soon, Anakin will see Padmé again. Soon, Padmé will have Sabé at her side again.</p><p>Soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They will never break our spirit

His lightsaber hisses and crackles as it meets that of his one Master, blue against red casting odd shadows in the training ring. Anakin twists on his foot, letting Maul's blade slide off his own, though the Zabrak recovers too quickly for him to take advantage of it. He narrows his eyes as he shifts into the next stance of the sequence, meeting the attack readily before throwing himself backward in a Force-assisted leap when the other blade of the saber-staff ignites, threatening to singe his neck as it comes around.

"Better." Obi-Wan's voice is warm approval, and Anakin grins even as Maul snorts, stepping back into a ready position. "But don't get cocky."

Anakin closes his eyes as the snap-hiss of an igniting lightsaber comes from behind him, the buzzing blade close enough to the back of his neck to singe the fine hairs, and lets out a Huttese curse. Every time he makes it through a sequence, there is something new. At least this time he's not curled up in a ball like he had been the last time he'd started off sparring with Obi-Wan, and Maul had been allowed to ambush him.

"You'd be just as dead, though." Obi-Wan lowers his lightsaber, deactivating the blade to return it to his belt. He rests a hand on Anakin's shoulder a moment later, guiding him toward the door of the training ring. "At least you would be if you fought alone."

Which Anakin is certain he won't be, knowing his Masters. They don't seem to agree on much, even after Obi-Wan had smuggled Maul out of the Temple. Anakin's still trying to figure that out, though when he's asked, all Obi-Wan has said is the Force has the worst sense of humor, and told him to go meditate.

"Soon." Maul passes them, stepping out the door first without looking at Obi-Wan, though Anakin can feel the tension that the single word evokes in his Master. He has some idea what that might mean, though, and he grins, glad that at least one of them thinks he's ready for the confrontation they've been preparing all of them for.

* * *

Over his head, the stars are a broad, bright swath across the sky, reminding him of everything he's supposed to be here for. Anakin lets his gaze wander, wondering which of the stars is Naboo's primary, and how Padmé is. She'll be twenty-six, and probably have forgotten him - he hopes she hasn't, but it's been twelve years since he met her, and he's not completely hopeless. Even if she has, so long as she's still alive and well and happy, he thinks he can live with that.

Drawing in a deep breath, he looks toward where he's certain the galactic center is, imagining the Temple on Coruscant. Wondering what Master Qui-Gon is doing, and maybe a little about what it might have been like to learn to be a Jedi there. As Master Qui-Gon's Padawan, instead of Obi-Wan's. A simple Jedi Padawan instead of being not entirely a Jedi, and not entirely a Sith.

It's fun, sometimes, but Anakin had wanted to be a Jedi, and he's not sure he likes what he is. Sometimes he's not sure he wants to be here at all, and he resents Maul and Obi-Wan for dragging him off to live in a drafty old ruin at the furthest edges of the Outer Rim - perhaps even beyond the claimed boundary of the Republic.

Maul encourages it, Anakin thinks. Certainly encourages him to feel anything and everything. To embrace his temper and use the anger to fuel his use of the Force. Passion, above all else, immersed in his emotions, and letting them guide him.

Sighing, he rolls over, staring into the dimly lit space that is a tiny courtyard with a fountain that reminds him of Naboo. One day he'll go back there, and he'll see Padmé again. He'll be at her wedding, the one he'd seen when he'd been nine and a slave and had no real hope of achieving what he'd seen.

"You'll be the most beautiful bride in the galaxy, Padmé," he whispers, closing his eyes to try to sleep. Soon. Soon.

* * *

Padmé leans against the railing of the balcony, looking out almost blindly over the gardens that are enclosed in the high walls of the palace on Serenno where she has been brought. She knows the healers who have kept her alive will hover and witter about her being out of bed, but she cannot let herself rest when there is too much yet to do.

"You look like you're about to fall over, Commander."

The title used makes her flinch, and she tightens her grip on the stone under her hands to keep herself upright. It isn't what she wants to be remembered as, to be known as, but it seems to eclipse her time as Queen of Naboo or as Senator for the Chommell sector before the galaxy had become a hell that she barely recognizes any longer.

A quiet laugh escapes her at the thought. Not the galaxy, just the Republic she had loudly spoken for. The shining jewel of civilization turned to dross and slag, while those who she'd always blamed for war hold onto more of the democratic ideals she loves more than her life.

"I am fine, Count Dooku." She doesn't turn to look at her host, preferring the blurred green view of the gardens. "I am assured that I will heal completely, given time."

Padmé just manages not to flinch when Dooku's hand comes to rest on her shoulder for a moment, cool even through the heavy robe she's wrapped up in. It's still a comfort that she leans into, wishing it were someone else there at her side with wordless reassurance.

"The last of the ships from Coruscant is expected to arrive tomorrow, Commander. My apprentice and your handmaiden will likely appreciate your presence when they land."

"Which handmaiden?" There had been fourteen of them before the war. Ten of them before the declaration of Empire. Six when she'd been dragged bodily into an escape pod to flee the destruction of her ship over her own beleaguered world.

"I am told her name is Sabé." Dooku removes his hand from her shoulder as she turns, hope flaring bright and painful in her. "I can escort you to meet the ship tomorrow, if you rest today as your healers have asked."

Padmé reaches out a hand blindly, though she can see where Dooku is standing - a darker shape against gray stone - and lets him help her back to the bed she had abandoned earlier as pointless. Tomorrow. The thought of it follows her down into sleep along with a murmur from Dooku that she's certain is a Force-enhanced suggestion.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "World of Stone", by Blackmore's Night.


End file.
